The Good Book
by Kath
Summary: What makes a man a Shepherd?


FANDOM; Firefly.  
  
AUTHOR; Kath.  
  
TITLE; "The Good Book."  
  
RATING; PG-13.  
  
DISCLAIMER; "Firefly" and its characters belong to Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox.  
  
A/N; I don't have satellite anymore (Cry baby, cry), so this one passed me by until they brought out the DVD. (BTW; Is it just me, or does it seem slightly weird to be paying the company, which pulled the plug on a great show, for pulling the show? Guess I really would cut off my nose to spite my face.) Anyway, I've pretty much immersed myself for the last 48 hours, and my fingers are itching to type. As much as I would love to see Kaylee and Simon get together, and River bring down the Blue Sun Corporation, and Zoo and Wash have kids (imagine the look on Mal's face!) and Innara get what she wants, and Mal forget that he doesn't want her, and Jayne, well I hope Jayne gets lots and lots of coin and a bigger Vera, but most of all, I want to know...  
  
SUMMARY: What makes a man a shepherd? What makes a shepherd a man?  
  
"The Good Book."  
  
"We all have a conscience, captain."  
  
The shotgun never wavered.  
  
"This piece of filth is responsible for the deaths of my men, sir."  
  
"That is so. But he has surrendered. And our law takes precedence over revenge."  
  
The captain took a breath to tell the Colonel where he could stick the law. Then he relaxed, and thumbed the safety. "You heard the Colonel. Bind him over."  
  
The captain turned away shaking his head. PoW's. More trouble than they were worth. Twenty years on a penal moon. Not enough. Not nearly enough. Twenty years wouldn't bring back Gratz or Rook or...  
  
Scuffling in the dirt, cry of alarm, the captain whirled round; slow, too slow; the Independence soldier was already re-aiming. Crack of sound, breath of air passed his ear, sidearm in his hand; late, too late. Body falling back without a head...  
  
The captain swivelled slowly.  
  
The Colonel re-holstered his weapon. "Of course, shooting a traitor while trying to escape is entirely legal."   
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Colonel Chapner nodded. "Clear up this mess."  
  
"You are troubled, my brother."  
  
Book bowed his head. "That is so, Reverend Father."  
  
The Abbot nodded. "Come, walk with me."  
  
The two men rose to their feet and turned to the light of the two suns. The Abbot chose an unpopular path. Overgrown with weeds, organic debris littering the ground, barely any light despite the two suns, until a clearing. The abbot fastidiously wiped the moss from an overturned, decaying tree trunk and sat down.  
  
"Share."   
  
Book turned away and crossed his arms. "Do you remember when I came to the order?"  
  
"Yes. You were troubled then also."  
  
"I was hoping for peace." Barely above a whisper.  
  
"Did you find peace?"  
  
"No. I found serenity, for a time."  
  
"But no longer?"  
  
"No, Reverend Father."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Because even serenity needs peace."  
  
"And where can you find peace?"  
  
"Not here." The declaration came from the soul.  
  
"So be it." The abbot stood and offered his hand. Book shook it. "Go in peace, my brother." The abbot's hand tightened on Book's. "But remember. Do not discount serenity."  
  
"Thank you, Reverend Father."  
  
"You'll fly with us."  
  
It was the girl's sure tone which caught his attention. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I've been watching you. You've been looking at the ships, not the destinations. And my 'Serenity' is a beautiful ship."  
  
Yes, he wanted to fly in this ship. This ship.  
  
"You can, um, pay, can't you?"  
  
"I have some cash. And I have..." Book offered the little box. He smiled as the girl's eyes widened.  
  
"Oh, grandpa..."  
  
Book winced. "I never married. I'm not a grandpa."  
  
Chapner rolled over trying to catch his breath. "I may be too old for this."  
  
"Nonsense. You are very vital and vigorous."  
  
"Thank you, I think."  
  
The companion smiled gently. She rose, draping silk over her shoulder. "Would you care for some refreshment?"  
  
"Before we start again?" Chapner winced. "Excuse me. I'm not myself."  
  
The companion returned to the bed bearing a tray with two glistening glasses upon it. "Who else are you?" she asked, teasingly.  
  
"I don't know." Chapner accepted a glass and sipped at it. "I killed a man today." He drained the rest of the wine.  
  
"Did he deserve to die?"  
  
"I thought so."  
  
"Then you did your duty."  
  
"Yes, I suppose I did."  
  
"I don't even know that I thought he was wrong."  
  
Innara, no the companion, no Innara, stroked his head in comfort.  
  
Book shut his eyes. It would be so easy to forget what he was, remember what he had been. But no. He could not, would not do that. These people needed a shepherd, he needed a flock. He always had.  
  
He'd been in pain before, many times. Some mental, mostly physical. And he knew the pain of dying. He was surprised to find that he was solid. Perhaps it was the fact that he was dying in battle. Not his battle, but a battle. That was the way he thought he would go. And yet, they tried to save him. His enemies tried to save him.  
  
"Target locked, Colonel."  
  
"Fire."  
  
"He's not breathing."  
  
His body arched, expelling the denial. That wasn't him. That wasn't the preacher. That wasn't the murderer. That was the machine, the machine inside.   
  
It was beautiful. The laws of physics were truly the greatest artists. Bright white, shading to yellow, shading to orange, shading to red, shading to clouds of dust and bodies, and bone and skin, and people. Let's not forget the people.  
  
Chapner sank back in his command chair.  
  
The people...  
  
"Narcissus is terminated, sir."  
  
A planet. I destroyed a planet. "Acknowledged." For a possible supply station. A probable supply station. A planet.  
  
"Incoming wave, sir. Blue Sun is requesting feedback on the effectiveness of the weapon."   
  
"It worked." Chapner left the bridge. He held on until he reached his quarters and then he threw up, like a rookie at his first scent of blood.  
  
"I-Dent." It took all his strength to toss aside the coverings. But he didn't want to die. That time was past.  
  
"Get this man to the emergency room."  
  
Chapner looked down over his troops. Hundreds, no thousands of ships, all heading for one place; 'Serenity'.  
  
"He's no preacher."  
  
Such a disdainful tone, but it was true. He was no preacher, no shepherd. Book thought he heard a protest, perhaps a question. But it didn't matter. The disdainful voice was right. No preacher, no shepherd, just a disguise for a coward.  
  
The war was over. Congratulations soaked the air.  
  
"Good to see you..."  
  
"We met at..."  
  
"I remember..."  
  
"He had the largest..."  
  
"D'you remember..."  
  
"I was at..."  
  
"We were at..."  
  
"Colonel Chapner. We've been looking for you." General Well bore down on the Colonel. "Your Excellency, allow me to present Colonel Adam Chapner. Colonel, this is His Excellency Martin Xang," Chapner bowed, "and his attaché, Major Laust, accredited representatives of the most recent addition to the Alliance. Gentlemen, this is the 'Hero of Narcissus'."  
  
"We have heard a great deal about you, Colonel." The Ambassador offered his hand for the greeting.  
  
Blue. Everything about them was blue. From their eyes to their shoes, even their hands. Chapner blinked. Hands?  
  
"Excuse me." The Ambassador dropped his hand and brushed off his robe. "I must have picked up some dust."  
  
Chapner recovered from his shock. "My apologies, Ambassador. I was momentarily distracted. It is an honour to meet you." They gripped hands. Oily. Slick.  
  
"The honour is mine. The 'Hero of Narcissus.' You must be very proud."  
  
"Oh, I don't know about that, Ambassador. If it wasn't for the Blue Sun Corporation, Narcissus would still be there."  
  
The General laughed heartily. "That's true. Thank the fates for Blue Sun."  
  
The Ambassador's head tilted slightly, "I do not believe that the Colonel meant exactly that sentiment."  
  
"I always mean what I say, Ambassador."  
  
"I'm sure you do."  
  
"We all do," said the General, with a brief frown at Chapner. "If it wasn't for Blue Sun and their support we would still be fighting."  
  
"Indeed. So many more lives lost."  
  
The Ambassador's voice was as chilling a tone as his gloves. Chapner raised his almost empty glass. "To Blue Sun."  
  
The Ambassador nodded and turned away. Chapner didn't drink. The general scooped the dignitaries forward. "Now, you must meet..."  
  
"Old friends?" Chapner's companion for the night glided to his side.  
  
"New enemies, I think."  
  
"Doesn't it get tiresome?"  
  
"Does what get tiresome?"  
  
"Having all these enemies?"  
  
Chapner smiled. "Enemies keep life interesting."  
  
"And short."  
  
The colonel and the companion moved onto the dance floor. "I am an old man, long in hair and tooth. I should enjoy what is left to me."  
  
"But you can't."  
  
He should really stop hiring companions; they were too go-ran sympathetic. "Perhaps I don't deserve to."  
  
"What do you deserve?"  
  
The music swelled to a crescendo. "I hope I deserve peace. But I doubt I'll get it. Not here."  
  
"Then you must seek serenity somewhere else."  
  
"Indeed." Chapner turned his companion in the dance, catching a fleeting glance of the unsettling Ambassador. An Ambassador for what?  
  
Shepherd Book. Preacher man. Man of the word, his word. Man of our law? Now he'd seen the law in action. And the law was only as good as the men who enforced it. Man of conscience? Yes. He would have to live with that.  
  
End. 


End file.
